Avenging Angel POVs
by Angelbaby1231
Summary: Basically a retelling of scenes from my story, Avenging Angel, in different POVs. Will contain Clint, Natasha, Steve, Sharon, Ward, Skye, and probably Coulson. Maybe more. Starts out chronological, will probably stay that way. Recommend reading Avenging Angel first.
1. Chapter 1 Clint POV

**Okay, so I'm procrastinating on final studies and thought up a little bit of a challenge for myself. This is basically going to be a POV fic with scenes from Avenging Angel, in different points of view, mostly with Clint and Natasha, but I'll try to throw in some others as well. For the most part, it'll be chronological and the beginning couple will be chapter one and two, since I really thought it would be interesting to write those in Clint's POV. Anyway, I hope you all like it and let me know what you think!**

Clint stared at the girl before him, knowing she was no more than just a child. She had a gun pointed directly at his forehead, her pale blue eyes steely as she stared back at him defiantly. He didn't know what she was waiting for. She was just standing there, her aim unwavering, but gave no indication that she was going to actually kill him. He had his bow up and an arrow strung, but couldn't convince himself to release.

He'd been here before.

The resemblance was uncanny. Even though this girl had pale blonde hair that was pulled back into a messy ponytail, blood sticking loose strands to the side of her face, the cold expression on her face was all too familiar. He'd stayed his hand once, but he wasn't sure he could convince himself to kill this girl. She'd put up as much of a fight as she could, more of a fight than any before her. He'd barely managed to detach her long enough to pull up his bow, but she'd already had a gun on him, waiting for his decision.

"You're good." He let his lips quirk, trying not to scare her into anything she didn't want to do. He was afraid, but not for himself. There was a time when he would have done anything to get out of a situation like this alive, but the face staring at him was too familiar to ignore. Cold, with surprisingly expressive eyes if anyone had bothered to look. She wasn't as cold as she could be, she hadn't quite given up on humanity yet, but he could practically see her tottering on the edge, ready to fall if someone dared to push.

"So are you, it seems." He wasn't expecting her to answer. He also wasn't expecting her to have such a quiet voice. It was bell-like, with no accent whatsoever, as though someone had beaten it out of her. If he could shoot that person, he would. No one deserved to be that defeated and no child deserved to be made into a weapon.

"Yeah, well, I've had years of training." He tried not to sound proud, but his training was something of an accomplishment. Not only that, but he wanted to see her reaction to be able to gage what she would do next. She had training, it was obvious, but how much?

"I have years of training as well." She seemed honest, which shot a bolt of anger through him. Someone else he knew had years of training and she held a very disturbing resemblance to that person. He shut the emotion down, eyeing her critically.

Christ, she couldn't be more than eighteen. Small, she was the perfect assassin. Unlike his partner, she could fade into the background. People picked Natasha for missions because she could seamlessly slip into any facade. They'd pick this girl because she blended in. Walking past her on the street, even he wouldn't give her a second glance. She looked like any other teenage girl, accept for the way she held herself right now, her back straight, her face cold. If she was trained as a spy, she would take down countries without breaking a sweat.

"You fight like someone I know. Are you, by any chance, Russian?" He couldn't just keep his goddamned mouth shut. After taking out the Red Room with Natasha, he'd thought it was over. He thought that the training of young girls to kill and be killed would end with the Red Room. Instead, it seemed to have picked up right where it left off, at least, some semblance of it did. "You're a lot like her, actually."

"The Black Widow and I have much in common." He immediately tensed and thought critically about releasing the arrow at the thought of her hurting Natasha. While some partners were just work partners, he and Natasha had something deeper and he wasn't about to put her life in danger just because of his goddamned conscience. He could live with the torture of knowing he killed a kid to keep Natasha from harm.

"You know Natasha?" He asked, keeping his teeth grit to hold back a snarl of warning. He had to repeatedly remind himself that she didn't know any better. She was a child, a young girl. Older than Natasha when he'd been sent after her, but it didn't matter. She had been raised to kill and probably knew very little about normal people. If he could call himself normal, at least. That thought was one of the only things that was keeping her alive at the moment.

"I have been hunting you for some time, Agent Barton." Her words chilled the blood in his veins, bringing on a large dose of paranoia. How long has she been watching them? How could they not have realized it? They were paranoid to a fault, Natasha had been moving them from safe house to safe house every few weeks lately…

Oh.

One night, almost a year back, Natasha had woken him up in the middle of the night and basically thrown his go-bag at his head, forcing him out of the apartment and into the night. They'd driven like crazy, back roads and pin point turns designed to throw someone off. He'd been confused until she'd said that someone had been following them, then he'd just gone along with her idea, letting to direct him into a stolen car before driving to a SHIELD base and hiding out for a week. She'd made a SHIELD team erase their time in that apartment, almost three months of their lives, before calming for a little while.

After that, it was every few weeks she'd change where she wanted to be. He'd assumed she was just going through another phase, she did it a lot where she just couldn't sit still, but what if it had been this girl?

"A week before." She seemed to answer his very thoughts, her calculating eyes catching the miniscule amounts of surprise he allowed to show. He didn't want her to think of him as a cold, clinical assassin, because that wouldn't get them anywhere. He had to make her see a human being, if he wanted to save her.

"That was almost a year ago." He informed her, though he was sure she was fairly certain of that fact. She'd been hunting him for a year. And he hadn't known.

"Yes, it was. A year ago next Tuesday." She shot back, her eyebrows twitching when he let out a chuckle.

"So the times Nat finally calmed down?" He asked, thinking of the times they'd been able to stay in a place for more than a few weeks, the times when they'd settle down for a month, month and a half before she was back at it again. He'd simply gone along, like he usually did, waiting for her to confide in him. Now he knew that she had no idea what they were running from. Which was probably why she'd been so frantic.

"I assume I was on other missions." She seemed to be trying her hardest to be honest, an interesting choice. He couldn't help laughing for real, unable to hold it in. Nat was going to be so pissed off when she found out. The lengths she'd gone to protect him and the one time she wasn't there, their personal stalker was. It was hysterical.

His bow never wavered and neither did her gun, even as he started to calm down and she tilted her head just slightly to the right, eyebrows quirking once before a smooth expression ran over her face. If he didn't know any better, he'd think she was related to Natasha.

"She's going to be pissed when she figures it out." He explained, but she only nodded slightly, as if she understood what he meant, even though he figured she had no idea. She might have been watching them, but there was no way she could have that much information on the Black Widow. Natasha was too careful, even when it was just the two of them. She never understood calming down, never understood how to let her guard down. She got the concept, but putting it into practice was difficult for her when she felt she was in danger. And the last year had been one constant battle after another with her.

"So we're at an impasse." He offered conversationally, her ice blue eyes snapping to his own grey eyes. Her eyes matched the weather, ridiculously cold and the temperature just kept dropping. He could see her breath coming out in small clouds, but she didn't seem bothered. Then again, Russia was freezing in winter. She was probably used to the cold.

"I suppose we are." She allowed, her eyes showing her caution. He could see the hesitance in her, knew she was confused. Probably because he hadn't been able to kill her yet. And, if he was being honest, he didn't want to have to. She'd tried to kill him, yes, but she easily could have over the last few minutes. One squeeze of the trigger and he'd be a dead man, bleeding out in an alleyway no one knew he was in. It wouldn't take much. But she hadn't done it yet.

"You know, it doesn't have to be this way." His mind slid through the options and he motioned to their weapons, which were still poised for attack. "You don't have to kill me. It's just an order, and, you know, orders are meant to be broken."

He grinned at her cheesily, hoping it would entertain her, but she just looked a little confused as she thought about what he'd said. She seemed to be someone who thought a lot. Natasha had been wild when they'd first met, she'd almost succeeded in killing him and had succeeded in breaking his arm and a few ribs. This girl had been a lot more careful. She was almost analytical, more like the Natasha he knew than the one he'd found in a similar alley all those years ago.

"I do not think these are meant to be." She informed him slowly, as if she wasn't quite sure of her own statement. He could run with that. Hesitance was enough to keep him talking, trying to talk her down. If there was anything he was good at, it was talking.

"I think there are places you could go that would be safe if you chose to." He said carefully, not wanting her to run at the first sign of trouble. Because that was her other option. She could just disappear. That was what Nat had done after escaping the Red Room. And he didn't want her to disappear. It wasn't quite clear yet, but he was pretty sure he just wanted to help her. If she was as smart as he knew she was, she would take his offer. If he believed in a god, he'd have prayed for it.

He tensed automatically when she took a slow step back from him, her eyes still glued to him. He knew that she noticed, she noticed everything he'd done, but he made no attempt to follow her, knowing that would scare her off faster than anything else he could possibly do.

She stood there for a long moment, her eyes on his, indecision flaring there. He waited while she thought, tense, prepared for anything.

Accept for when her finger tightened on the trigger.

It was all too fast to account for, her finger tightened and he was already letting the string go, the bullet whizzed past his ear, he could hear the noise of it, but it never hit. He swore out loud as his fingers slipped and the arrow started to fly, his arms wrenching down and away, but not fast enough.

Before he could cry out, the arrow slammed into her stomach, throwing her back onto the ground, where she stayed.

He was running before he could remember why it was a bad idea. "Are you alright?! Can you hear me?!"

She didn't acknowledge him at all as he dropped down to the ground beside her, her hand shakily moving to press into the area surrounding the wound, blood slowly spreading out from the arrow. She pulled her hand away and just stared at it for a moment, the blood dark against her pale as snow skin.

He went to work immediately, yanking a first aid kit out of one of his many pockets and starting to rip gauze out, pressing it around the arrow as his heart pounded in his ears, guilt eating away at him. He should have known she wouldn't kill him, he should never have taken the shot. She was so like Natasha that he couldn't think straight, almost panicking at the thought of her death.

"What the hell were you thinking? I almost killed you!" He growled, working hard to stem the flow of blood and stop the panic building in his chest. He didn't want to be the cause of her death, even if he knew on some level that that was what she was going for when she'd taken the shot. She'd had perfect aim until she'd pulled the trigger, when she'd moved the gun just enough to miss him completely.

She was in shock, he could tell, her face paling rapidly as the pain finally began to process, her eyes squeezing shut for just a moment before she opened them to stare at him, determination in her eyes.

"You have five minutes before they arrive to extract me. I suggest you take it." An accent colored her words, a bastardized version of Russian, similar to the accent Nat had when she was upset, which was why it was suddenly completely ridiculous to think about leaving her there. If they found her and realized she failed, he knew what would happen. And he wasn't about to let that happen.

"They'll kill you if they find you." He informed her, trying to fight back a burst of panic at the thought.

"Yes, they will." She nodded, completely honest. He could see the determination still in her gaze and knew that she'd given up. She was ready to die if that was what this meant. She was ready to be free from whatever torture they were putting her through, she just wanted out. Instead of running like Nat had, she was content to let them just kill her.

He couldn't get the part of him that was Clint Barton to shut up. Hawkeye and Clint were separate people, Hawkeye could care less about a little girl assassin from Russia. She had been sent to kill him and he wanted to survive. But Clint could see the girl beneath, the one that resembled Natasha in a way he couldn't get past. And Clint Barton wouldn't let anything happen to Natasha so why would he let this girl die before him?

"I doesn't have to end this way. You could come with me." He finally offered, hoping she'd accept his proposal.

Then she coughed, hacked was more like it, a wet gurgle in the back of her throat warning him that her condition was worsening. She'd drown in her own blood if he didn't make a decision soon. "You've seen what Nat and I do. We work for the government and the World Council. We choose assignments and get paid to do our jobs on a monthly basis. You'd have a place to live, a bunk, aliases all over the world. You'd fight for a cause."

It was the same words someone had said to him once upon a time, the words that had convinced him to cross over to the side of the good, but he could see that she wasn't quite on board with his idea.

"Three minutes." The words sounded forced, pained, and he fisted his hands for a moment, fighting back a wave of emotion as Clint Barton made his way fully through, Hawkeye pushed to the back of his mind. His mission was over and Hawkeye couldn't be blamed for the consequences of his soon to be actions.

"I can help you. Let me help you." He was reduced to begging and he didn't give a shit, grabbing her carefully and forcing her upright, knowing it wasn't good for her wounds but unable to stop because hesitation would mean her death. He fought to ignore her hiss of pain, keeping his arm wrapped around her waist, just above the arrow that protruded from her abdomen as he waited for her to get her feet under her.

"How much time do we have?" He asked, starting to move with her at his side. She started jogging, which wasn't as surprising as it could have been. If she was like Natasha, she'd fight through the death rattle in her lungs and keep going until she fell over, not stopping for something she'd deem insignificant. He wasn't looking forward to that.

Her pale hair blew into her face, sticking to the drying blood there. She coughed again, blood dripping down her chin, but she made no move to wipe it off, instead ignoring it as she started moving, pulling different things off of her body as she went, weapons littering the ground around them.

"What are you doing?" He fought the concern leaking into his system, knowing that Nat never got rid of her weapons, especially not in enemy hands.

"My weapons could theoretically be tracked. Can't keep them." She informed him, letting him move her towards the van he was supposed to take back to the meeting place.

"Here." He basically picked her up and shoved her into the back seat, throwing the med kit in after her. If she was anything like them, she'd be able to take care of herself while he drove. At least, long enough to keep herself alive until they could get her some professional help.

He slid into the driver's seat and started the engine, driving like a bat out of hell as he tried to get them out of there without someone following them, his teeth grit as he took a hairpin turn, switching the lights off so there wouldn't be a visual from above. He was already trying to figure out the best route to take when he heard something weird from the backseat that had him spinning to look at the small blonde, staring as she grunted in pain, one hand wrapped around the arrow shaft and the other gripping the back of the passenger's side seat, bracing herself.

"What the hell are you doing?!" He went to hit the break, stopping when she spoke.

"Keep driving." He didn't like taking orders from her, but knew that stopping would get them killed faster than her yanking an arrow out of her body with her bare hands. Muttering a few choice words, he kept driving, spinning to keep his eyes on the road.

He heard the rip of packages being opened before silence dominated the car, his eyes flicking to the rearview mirror to see her eyes slipping closed.

"Hey! Stay awake! Come on!" He yelled, but there was no use. She was already gone.


	2. Chapter 2 Clint POV

**Here's Clint's POV on Katya after bringing her in. **

Clint was waiting. He was good at that. Had been since before this girl was a sparkle in her mother's eye, since before he'd been trained to shoot, since before joining the circus was even a thought. Really, being an assassin was all about patience. And he had that in spades. What he didn't have, however, was time. He'd returned with the girl in tow a few hours earlier and they'd put her straight into surgery. She'd been stitched up and laid down in a hospital bed, given fluids in her dehydrated state and healed with every resource that they had at their disposal.

She looked smaller in a paper gown.

Her pale blonde hair was in a halo around her head and her tac suit and weapons were long gone, probably in a lab somewhere being tested. Her face was devoid of the carefully constructed mask she wore when she'd faced him and she really did look just like a lost child. A child that hadn't been given any choice in how to live her life.

He couldn't regret bringing her back. Even with the ass chewing he'd gotten from Coulson, Fury, and Cap, he'd have still done it all again given a chance. None of them believed that she'd missed the shot on purpose, that she hadn't been trying to kill him. SHIELD techs had been over the alleyway and they figured it was a twitch in her hand or something from former nerve damage that had caused the gun to move away so he hadn't died. They wouldn't take his word for it.

He'd been there, he'd seen the desperation in her eyes. She'd known what she was doing and she had been ready to die, a look he'd seen on someone else's face once upon a time. He'd felt the same reckless abandoned before as well and he couldn't help but sympathize.

He was waiting in the viewing room, had been since she'd gotten out of surgery an hour before. While the doctors had been wary about fixing her up, Dr. Banner had gone in at the last possible second and taken over, making sure that no one hurt her, that she got the best care available. Clint would be forever grateful to the Doc, who had done what he couldn't.

He was moving the moment her eyes opened, wild panic in their depths, his own thoughts long forgotten.

It took him only a moment to open the door and calm himself, standing before the young girl who could probably kill him with her pinky. Probably not his smartest idea, but he watched her slide into a defensive crouch, her back to the wall behind her. "You shouldn't be moving."

She took in her surroundings like she hadn't known she was moving, like it was all new to her, and he figured it was. If she was anything like Nat, she would move on instinct and not be used to having her memories when she woke up. The overload of information was probably confusing her, but he was more than willing to wait it out. He'd done it before and he knew he could do it again, no matter how long it took.

"You were given twelve stitched on each side. They said you made a bloody mess of the wound and they could have gotten it out with less scarring if you'd left it in. You also wouldn't have lost so much blood, but I think you knew that. That's why they sent me in. They think I'll be able to get you to talk." He informed her, holding in a smile at the assumption. If she didn't want to talk, she wouldn't. Not even to him.

He moved into the room a bit more, eyeing her as he did. He was careful to telegraph his next move, not wanting to make her uncomfortable. He saw the way her eyes slid to the guns in his holsters, there just for effect. None of them were loaded, he'd taken the bullets out before he'd even gone to the viewing room. They were more to make his comrades more comfortable than to actually be a threat.

He moved to a chair in the corner, able to feel the physical weight of her eyes on him. He was sure she was studying him, profiling him, and he was wondering about her conclusions. Did she trust him? Could she? Was there any part of her that was able to trust him after he'd shot her? He knew he'd blown it the moment he'd let his arrow fly, but she had yet to attack. That was a good sign in his book. Natasha had been a lot more violent when he'd brought her in. Their first encounter after extraction was her breaking his nose and his left arm, all in under two minutes.

"I'm not here to hurt you, you know that, right?" He asked seriously. He wanted her to know that, but she just blinked at him. He could see the untrusting look in her eye, the wariness she regarded him with. She was in enemy territory without a friend in the place. He could be a friend, if she let him. He'd keep her safe from those in the agency who would wish to harm her, and, in turn, try to help her learn how to integrate back into society as a whole. "SHIELD is meant to protect people. Even people like yourself. You saw what they did for Natasha, they can do that for you too."

She shot him a withering glare that would liquefy his kidneys if he wasn't careful, her contempt obvious on her face.

"SHIELD is in ruins. It does not exist and the people who do within it are more than likely HYDRA agents just waiting to strike. I do not want help from a place like that." She bit out through tightly clenched teeth. He was getting to her. She might not want help, but she was giving him information about her own thoughts and feelings about things, which was more than he had hoped for in such a short time span.

"There are a few that are still loyal and we are trying to find them. What do you know about the take down of SHIELD?" He asked, suspicious on if she was in on the entire plan. It wasn't anything against her, but he had to keep his options open. If she was in on it, he'd have to make sure he got all the intel on it and that would be a big battle, especially considering how obviously traumatized she was. She probably hadn't even noticed that she was still in the same defensive position, as if he'd attack her at any moment, even though she had to be in some intense pain. He had no such plans, but appreciated her error on the side of caution. It was better to be cautious than to be dead.

"I know that HYDRA has hidden within SHIELD since the beginning, out of sight, waiting for the day when they could rise to power again. I know that HYDRA is always recruiting, usually young, idealistic children who are more susceptible to their view of the world, but they are not above brainwashing their followers. SHIELD should beware." She chose her words carefully to rile him up, he could see it easily, but didn't let it affect him. If she knew that much about HYDRA, there was a chance she had a connection on the inside and that could be potentially dangerous to their mission.

"How do you know all of that?" He forced himself to sound reasonable, because he knew that was what she was expecting. On guard, but still working towards a bigger goal.

"SHIELD was not the only place HYDRA made a playground of. Their technology ended up in the hands of the Rooms. Every agent of the Rooms knew of HYDRA long before they came out." She didn't mention what technology or how she'd experienced it, but he could see plainly on her face that she hated HYDRA almost as much as he did. Which had a lot of unanswered questions popping up in his mind.

"I was instructed to ask you a lot of questions, but the first one I want to ask, the one I want an answer to, is this. Do you want to live?" He asked, completely serious. He held eye contact and leaned towards her, her pale blue eyes boring back into his own storm grey. Those eyes flickered for a moment in serious thought, as if she was unsure of the answer to that question.

That was why he hadn't killed her.

"If I never am to return to the Post Room, then yes, I want to live." It was a simple answer. He understood it all too well too. Natasha had chosen to live outside of the Red Room and this girl was now choosing the same offer, even if she didn't know it quite yet. She had already taken stock of her injuries, knew they'd done what they could to fix the broken bones and wounds she'd already sustained, but it might not be enough to convince her. The rest was up to him.

"Good. Next question, can you be loyal to SHIELD?" This one was harder and he watched her carefully to see if there was any show of hesitation on her side of the block.

"The enemy of my enemy is my friend. I will never be loyal to HYDRA."


	3. Chapter 2 Natasha POV

**I've gotten questions about who else's POVs are going to be featured here and I just wanted to let you know that I'm planning basically a little bit of everyone. Some chapters, I might even have more than one POV for them, like Ch 2 I split into two parts, Clint's part and Natasha's. Next one is a surprise, but it's not Nat or Clint, so keep watch! Enjoy Natasha's POV!**

Natasha Ch 2

He was an idiot. Natasha was sure that Clint was out to get himself killed as she stalked down the halls of the base, searching for the right set of rooms. They had to be around there somewhere and she was going to find them if it killed her. And then she was going to show Clint just what it meant to anger her. Not only had he brought in someone who had tried to murder him, but now he was in the room with an agent of one of the many Rooms, as if this child wasn't a coldly trained assassin, as if she couldn't kill him without a second thought. And he hadn't even thought to bring her as backup?

Finding a viewing room to a lock room, she walked in, not surprised to find that Cap was already in there, waiting patiently and watching the exchange before him with guarded eyes and a soldier's perspective. Director Coulson was in there too, his own face pulled down in a frown. Both turned when the door opened, obvious amusement on Coulson's face, while Cap looked a little concerned for Clint's health.

He should be.

"That her?" Natasha bit out, moving closer to eye the girl who was crouched on the ground, only able to see her profile from the way the two way was arranged. She looked young, devastatingly so. Natasha had been seen as young when she'd escaped, but had actually been in the Red Room for a lot longer than anyone realized. She chose not to let SHIELD in on that information, but it was obvious that the girl before her was actually young, maybe eighteen or nineteen. She was small for her age, not just skinny, but short as well. Even in her crouch, Natasha could tell she was only a few inches over five feet, still shorter than Natasha herself. She was thin, hungry looking, though it did nothing to detract from her aesthetic appeal. Whoever had been her handler, they were genius when it came to torturing the poor girl.

"He's still working on getting her to calm down." Cap explained, which wasn't going to happen. She was a highly trained assassin, calming down wasn't what she did. It was always a game, someone was always playing you. Natasha hadn't known what friends were until she'd met the rest of the Avengers. Sure, Clint was her friend, but there was more to it with him. She hadn't had friends her entire life, now she seemed to have too many. It would take a lot to convince this young girl that she could have the same.

"Good. Next question, can you be loyal to SHIELD?" Clint wasn't asking the right questions. Rather, he was, but in the wrong way. Natasha wasn't loyal to SHIELD, she was loyal to Fury. She was loyal to Coulson. She was loyal to him. But a greater good? She hadn't believed that in the first place, she definitely didn't believe it after the fall of the organization. There were times when she wasn't sure what she was fighting for. Her survival was paramount, but she had long ago saved enough money to hide away on a deserted island for a hundred years without discovery. If she still wasn't loyal to SHIELD, this girl definitely wasn't going to be. No matter what her answer.

"The enemy of my enemy is my friend. I will never be loyal to HYDRA." The girl answered, a clever answer if there ever was one. She knew how to avoid answering questions she had no answer to and she did it in a way that wouldn't leave the other person guessing. Natasha was grudgingly impressed, even if she knew that the next few questions would be the hardest ones this girl would ever have to answer in her life.

"Alright. Close enough. What's your name?" Natasha was moving before Clint had finished talking, the Black Widow taking over to protect her partner. Cap called after her, Coulson did too, but she ignored their worry and threw open the door to the containment room, eyes snapping to the young girl crouched on the floor, the girl who had yet to make a move. Her stationary body was enough to convince the Widow not to attack and Natasha took back over her own body, mind working hard to pick up thoughts that would have helped her at that point in her recovery.

When they'd picked her up, they'd known her name. Natalia Alianovna Romanova. She'd been the Black Widow and they'd called her by those names without question. It wasn't until later that she picked who she wanted to be, the name she would answer to. And she had to think now. What was something that would have calmed her in this moment?

"We need a name for our records. Pick an alias." It was the easiest thing for the girl to do, pick who she wanted to be out of all the selves she'd created in the past. It was simple, it was smart, it wasn't as scary as answering something that she didn't know the answer to.

Clint was staring at her, but she refused to return his gaze. He was in enough trouble without freaking the girl out enough that she would attack. The girl was biting into her bottom lip, thinking hard, her eyes in a faraway place. There was pain in her eyes and she looked like she was reliving a moment, something she remembered. Natasha hoped it was a good memory. Dealing with the memories of what she'd been through too soon would make it harder for them to get her to trust them.

"Katya. My name is Katya." She finally answered, her eyes focusing in on Natasha once again. Natasha stared back for a moment, wondering who had given her that name. It was a nickname for names such as Katerina, Katyuska, Katrina. One of them could have been the name the Room had given her. Or it could have been totally different.

"Last name?" She didn't want to ask too much too soon. Natasha knew how to keep it straight forward and she knew that it was the best approach. Katya was strong, yes, but she was bred to want to please. Clear cut instructions would get them better answers than the questions Clint would ask, given the chance.

"Barnes. Katya Barnes." She announced, sounding more sure of herself in the last name she'd chosen than in the first. Natasha would look that name up later, see if she could find something that connected her to someone named Barnes, but decided that it wasn't relevant in that moment. She'd find out later if there was any significance in that name.

"Alright. Age?" There could be no hesitation on her part. Natasha knew the rules of the game and she couldn't let the girl think she'd done anything wrong. She wasn't being soft, wasn't offering up anything else but cold cut rules. And that was how she'd have to play the game for now. Options would come later. Disapproval would even come later. But, for now, the girl needed something she was familiar with.

"Nineteen. I think." Common answer, considering she was in the Room and they hadn't allowed much for age keeping. Or personal knowledge in general.

"Birthday?" The look Katya sent her was full of insecurity. "Just pick one. We need it for a file."

"January First." She answered after only a second's hesitation. Natasha almost laughed at the irony. New year, new start, new person. She had chosen a day that stood out to keep herself hidden from the Room, which would look for others days, days with significance to her personally. It was almost genius.

"I need to know which Room you come from." Natasha finally asked. The girl, Katya, tensed, ready to fight. Her eyes flicked to the door, the pale blue flashing in indecision. Natasha knew she was counting the odds, figuring out just how face she would be able to go before she was stopped. The truth was that she could probably make it out of the Tower if she wanted to. While Clint and Natasha would be prepared for her, no one else would be. They would die or be knocked out before they realized that the girl before them was dangerous. "It's so I know what you have been through and what to expect of the training you received."

Natasha let a little kindness come through, not wanting to upset the girl. She had more issues than most people and she wanted to help. When she was young, Clint had given her a second chance and she owed it to him to help him give this girl a second chance. She owed it to herself to let her have her chance.

"The Post Room."


	4. Chapter 3 Ward POV

**So, here's Ward's POV of Ch 3. Because we all want to know what he's thinking during this, don't we? At least, I wanted to know. And this is what I've come up with. So, I hope you enjoy, review if it makes you happy. All reviews make me happy, so doesn't matter if you just want to say hi or whatever. **** Enjoy!**

Ward stared at the girl who had just taken out three people, a cast breaking off her arm after she clubbed one of the HYDRA agents in the face with it, effectively taking out the men who were attacking him. She was dressed in surgical scrubs, a belt that was obviously too big around her waist, hanging off her hips at an angle. She had a gun in the hand that hadn't had a cast and was moving towards him.

He jerked out a nod of thanks, glancing back at the fight before glancing at her again, trying to figure out if she was on his side or not. She was the prisoner Barton had brought in, he knew that, but she was helping them at the moment, which meant he could at least trust her to take out a few of the bad guys.

She nodded back to him while she peeled off the last few plaster chunks that clung to her arm, flexing her hand a bit. She had stitches along her wrist and he was pretty sure that someone was going to have her head for ruining their hard work, but it didn't look like she cared as she reached down and pulled out another gun before turning to face the wall that had been blown to pieces a few minutes ago.

"How many more are there?" She asked, surprising Ward. He was sure she'd just start fighting, the slight Russian accent not escaping his notice as he glanced at May, wondering if he should tell her anything. May didn't even bother to look, just gave a slight nod. He understood that more than if she'd said anything. They needed as many people as they could get and she was obviously a fighter.

"Don't know. There were three dozen that broke in at various points." He informed her, wondering how the other agents were holding up. He couldn't save everyone, but Skye and Simmons and Fitz were all in the building and he needed to get them out at least. He wasn't about to let his team get hurt, no matter what they thought of him.

"They have people on the inside." The girl wielded around, facing the doorway she'd come in from, guns raised to take out any of the opposing agents in their ranks.

Ward couldn't say he was surprised, after all, they'd thought he was a double agents. Really, he had always been on the side of the good, always acting under Director Fury's orders, not that that mattered to anyone on his team. They couldn't care less that Fury had told him to keep it a secret. They thought they deserved to know. They also didn't trust him. If he'd kept that from them, what else could he be keeping?

"What?" May barked out, glancing sideways at the girl before turning back to the fight.

"How many?" Barton asked at the same exact time, his voice softer and less angry. He was suffering from a broken nose, something he'd had for a while, but it was leaking blood down his face again, a cut above his eye also gushing blood. It didn't seem like he noticed, but Ward assumed he just didn't care, knowing how badly it had to hurt. He himself had a pounding pain in his face and assumed it was bruising, but ignored it in favor of the fight they didn't have a choice but to win.

"Don't know. Already took out one." She motioned to a body on the floor with the SHIELD logo stamped across its chest, all of them tensing as more footsteps could be heard from down the hall.

"How do we know she's not HYDRA?" May bit out, her expression clear. She was angry, sure, but you couldn't tell just by looking at her. Ward wondered if it was his betrayal that had made her so untrusting, but knew that her experiences as the Cavalry were probably the cause. He wasn't about to take all the credit. May was stronger than that.

"HYDRA is the last thing she'd be." Everyone glanced at Romanoff, Ward shocked that she would defend the girl. Romanoff wasn't known for her fuzzy persona and he wondered just what the girl was that she'd managed to gain the Black Widow's trust in such a short amount of time.

He didn't have much time to think as Romanoff's guns started to go off, more HYDRA agents rushing through the wall. Barton spun to face the hallway with the girl next to Ward, making him wonder if the guy could tell HYDRA from SHIELD anymore.

"You got my back?" Ward asked the girl, taking another shot. He didn't have much choice but to trust the girl and, if Barton and Romanoff trusted her, he couldn't see why he shouldn't. He saw her slight nod from his peripherals as he pulled the trigger repeatedly, hitting a few men before he heard her response.

"You got mine?" He grinned at the question, moving to press his back into her much smaller one, keeping her out of sight in case he needed her later. Besides that, it would keep her safer. He didn't think Romanoff or Barton would thank him if she was hurt in the crossfire, especially when he was working with her. He didn't want to earn their ire. They were almost friends and he was more than happy to keep it that way. Then again, if something happened to her, he wasn't sure that they'd let him live long enough to regret it.

The fight was on as Ward started shooting whoever came through the hole, firing off enough shots that he had to reload twice before he heard Katya say anything.

"Who the hell doesn't pack extra clips in their utility belt? Are HYDRA agents really that moronic?" She screeched, stomping a foot like a petulant child as she moved against his back. Barton shot her an amused look while Ward just grinned, elbowing her gently to get her attention.

"Back left on my belt." He informed her, not surprised when she barely touched him, pulling out enough clips to make his belt seem infinitely lighter. He didn't have time to glance back and make sure she had enough, instead aiming at HYDRA agents that were pouring in, anger slowly brewing when he realized many of them were people he counted as friends.

Sweat was soaking through his uniform, which he'd been lucky enough to have on when the siege started. Romanoff was in her jumpsuit, but Barton was in jeans and a long sleeved shirt, the sleeves now yanked up to his elbows so his shooting glove could wrap around his arm. May was in a button down and black slacks, her own utility belt clipped over the top of that, the white button down splattered with blood.

"This is getting old real quick. What's the plan?" He raised his voice over the noise of the battle, hoping like hell one of the other agents had a plan, because he didn't at the moment. Evac was in order, but there were information storages that needed to be destroyed and scientists who still needed to be cleared, not to mention the med bay, which had a few agents in it that couldn't be moved. Someone had to get all this done before they could blow the place, destroying anything HYDRA could use.

"May, Carter, you stay here with Cortez and Carter. Hold them off on that side. Ward, Katya, you're with Clint and I. We're the evac team." Romanoff informed everyone, Ward moving as soon as the order was out to trade places with Carter, keeping up the steady flow of bullets and making sure that the girl named Katya was still covered as he moved.

"Katya, you okay to fight?" Barton asked, worry tinging his tone. It was enough to let Ward know that she was to be trusted, that was for sure.

"It's just a few broken bones, Hawk. Nothing I can't handle." She informed him in good humor, a bullet sliding past them and slamming into the wall beside them. Blood splattered Ward's tac suit and he glanced sideways to see that Katya had been grazed, the light blue of her scrubs quickly turning dark with blood.

"She's trained for this, Barton." Romanoff had a lot more faith in Katya, it seemed, than Barton, which made Ward feel a little better about taking her along as an evac. He figured it was his job to make sure she didn't get killed. It was also his job to make sure she didn't run off, considering she was the prisoner that everyone was talking about.

It was going to be a long night.


	5. Chapter 4 Clint POV

**This actually starts after the beginning of Chapter 3, but I didn't want to explain what everyone else was doing. It was boring. Really, all Clint and Natasha did was finish the fight and evacuate to a safe distance. There's the beginning. Lol, sorry, it's just that this scene was one I was really interested in writing in Clint's POV because he's so concerned with Katya and, in case you're wondering, he knows that Natasha's okay. I don't put it in here, because this is a Katya-centric story, but he does realize she's fine. Anyway, here you are!**

Clint cursed as he saw Ward and Simmons sliding down a line from the top of the building that was about to blow up, the small form of Katya on the roof still, her body turning to see something behind her. Her blonde hair was wild and yanked back into a tight ponytail that did nothing to keep it out of her face, the scrubs making her body look smaller than it was. She was trying to see what was behind her before she jumped.

She barely cleared the side as she threw herself after Ward and Simmons, only making it a few feet before an explosion rocked the grounds. The grass bucked as Clint started scrambling to get closer, panicking a bit at the sight of the line snapping practically in half and Katya a blonde blur that was flying towards the trees. She bounced off of the one closest to where Ward had landed, slamming into the ground with a painful thud even he could hear from his position yards off.

He ducked flying debris as he ran towards where he'd last seen her, the heat searing his skin and causing his eyes to start to water as he moved faster and faster, gritting his teeth as she sat up quickly, as if she hadn't been injured at all. He was close enough to make out all the blood that was covering her body, to make out the shock on her face as she spun, glancing into the trees as if she was looking for something specific, something she knew without a doubt was there. He followed her line of sight to see that she was looking at Ward and Simmons, the pair of them slowly sitting up after a rough landing. She had been making sure that they were alright, that they'd survived the blast and made it to safety.

Then she collapsed.

"Katya!" He hollered in a scratchy, pained voice, picking up the pace while the building they'd been in burned to the ground, all evidence of their involvement destroyed in the blast that had killed a majority of the HYDRA agents who were among them.

He couldn't get to her fast enough, it felt like it took him years. She'd disappeared into the tall grass of the clearing and he wondered how they had kept track of her while she was in the Post Room considering he'd lost her so easily after only having her for such a short amount of time. A glance around showed him that a bunch of agents were arguing about lost artifacts and injuries and there was a paramedic making the rounds, but he couldn't find Katya until he heard the hacking cough coming from a few feet to his left.

Spinning, he ran towards Katya where she lay, dropping onto his knees as soon as he got to her to get a good look at the wounds she'd sustained after her fall. She was coughing up a lot of blood, spitting it onto the ground next to his knees, her gaze slightly unfocused as she looked up at him without a clue who he was.

He immediately yelled for a med team and an ambulance, his hand brushing her arm and then pulling back when he remembered she wasn't one of them. She wouldn't react well to an unsolicited touch, even if it was for comfort when she was in pain. He wanted to kill Ward for leaving her like that, on the edge of a building that could have easily killed her, but held in the urge as the man himself came over, dragging Simmons behind him as if she was a stray puppy that would get lost if he didn't keep a firm hold on her.

"Is she alright?" Ward actually sounded concerned despite the rumors that circled about him, but Simmons was already on the ground next to them, starting to work on Katya's wounds as if that was what she'd meant to do originally. Clint had never been so grateful to see the biologist in his entire life.

"Punctured lung. At least three ribs are broken, I told you I saw her hit that tree. There's a wound here from… Is that an arrow wound?" Simmons shot Clint a disapproving look that he completely ignored in concern when Katya started coughing hard enough to produce tears in her brilliant blue eyes. "It's opened and it's bleeding profusely. The suture marks on her arm ripped and are bleeding as well, though the bones are still in place, if I'm feeling this right. She got lucky with that. We're going to need oxygen and as much pain reliever as we can get into her. I'm also going to need a med kit and transport. She's bleeding heavily. Ward, hand me your belt."

"Why?" Ward didn't hesitate to give it to her, but was obviously curious as to why she needed it. Clint already knew after all the times he'd had to patch Natasha up on the run.

"Because she was grazed and she's bleeding from her thigh, which is where a lot of the blood loss is coming from." Simmons explained quickly and surgically, not seeming the least bit concerned with the raging inferno that was decimating a good chunk of land behind them. Clint simply watched as she tightened the belt around Katya's thigh, right above a fairly deep wound, looking for all the world like she was in her element.

Clint stopped paying attention to what the other two were doing as soon as Katya's hands moved, flailing towards her only weapon. He grabbed her wrists before she could get the gun, moving so that he was the only thing she'd be able to see, his own grey eyes meeting her ice blue ones, the fear in them hitting him harder than the sight of her wounds.

He always knew she was like Natasha, but they were never more similar than in that moment.

"Katya, I know you're scared, but you're going to be just fine. Simmons is a doctor and she's going to help you. I promise. Natasha's going to be here soon and we're going to take you to a safe place, a place where this won't happen again." He informed her, knowing she couldn't really hear him after the shock of the blast. There was no comprehension in her gaze, but she was relaxing in his hold as if she really could hear him, and that was enough.

Simmons stuck her with an IV as the med team arrived to help her take care of Katya, who was focusing in on his lips as if she could read the words there. She probably could.

"You're going to be just fine." He reiterated. "You did great today and we owe you. Even Tasha wants to thank you for your help. We'll get you stitched back up and you'll be good as new. You just gotta let the docs do their jobs."

They were pumping her full of a drug to put her to sleep and to ease the pain and he trailed off as she went limp, eyes sliding closed. Her face slid from the concentrated, fierce look he'd come to recognize into a more childlike look of innocence as she passed out.

He wasn't sure what came over him in the next few minutes, but he wouldn't let them take her out of his gaze. It didn't take long for Natasha to show up and reiterate his desire to stay close to her. Neither of them were interested in the medical support Stark had sent over and insisted on flying to the Tower with Katya, knowing she would freak out if she woke up on her own in such a strange place.

They weren't going to let that happen.


	6. Chapter 5 Natasha POV

"I was awake before?" Natasha heard as she made her way slowly into the room they'd put Katya in. She'd woken up a few times before, usually in a blind panic while she started ripping equipment apart like a maniac. Not that Natasha blamed her in the least. She had been through enough experiments in her life to have a healthy dose of skepticism when it came to science experiments going on around her.

"It probably has to do with the treatments." She announced, walking into the room like she owned the place, just because she knew it would probably piss Tony off. She noticed how Katya was looking at her, confused and slightly uncomfortable at the sight of her intimidating assassin vibe being thrown off with grey yoga pants and an old green tank top. She'd chosen the outfit with Katya in mind, knowing that she would need to see someone like her being comfortable in the Tower before she would allow herself to even think of calming down.

"What treatments?" Simmons just had to ask as she moved into the room to check some monitors and adjust a few of the cords that Katya had disturbed.

"Mandatory memory wipes. They blank out your memories of certain times in your life and sometimes they bleed over. It should end in a few months if we keep her off them." Natasha explained easily. She'd had to explain it before and she'd have to again before her life was through, so there was no real use in being upset about it. Simmons looked properly horrified, just like someone who had never been through torture in her life. Even Tony looked slightly surprised, as if he wasn't quite sure how to take the fact that the girl he wanted to hate was actually just in a lot of pain, not being a pain in the ass just for the fun of it.

"Something's are better left forgotten." Katya's voice came out crystal clear and concise, but her eyes were on Simmons, who still looked terrified by the very thought of losing parts of her life.

Natasha understood the sentiment. She wished she'd never remembered some of the things she'd done. She wished she could say she didn't sign up for the program, that she didn't do most of the acts willingly in the beginning. She'd thought she'd been helping her country, thought she'd been doing something good. That was when the treatments started and everything else was a blur that came through with surprising clarity on the days she didn't need it. On the days she hated herself and what the Red Room had turned her into. Those days, remembering was far easier than it should have been.

"I agree." Natasha nodded slightly, biting back the pain those sentiments dredged up.

"Did everyone make it out alright?" It was an obvious change of topic, but Natasha let it go, feeling Clint's eyes on her. He was trying to read her, trying to find out if she was still in pain from the memories he could do nothing to save her from. And she fought back the demons, not wanting him to be tormented by the same evils that tormented her every dream.

"Agent Ward is in the room next to yours and Agent Carter is across the hall. She took a few hits and is down for the count. Agent May is upstairs, speaking with our new Director, they're trying to think of a new safe headquarters since the Playground was compromised." Clint informed her, drawing a sharp look from Natasha. She trusted Katya enough, she wouldn't endanger herself without cause, but it was a lot of information for someone they didn't know.

"Oh." That was all Katya said, watching Simmons bustle around the room. Natasha glanced at Clint, who had a question in his gaze, a question she knew the answer to. He was asking her permission on a topic they'd discussed since bringing Katya back with them. Was he allowed to ask her to stay with them?

The answer was yes.

"Simmons! You can't just leave me behind like that! I wanted to take a look at our patient as well!" Fitz burst into the room, almost flying in his wheel chair, already overly comfortable with the machine. To be fair, he'd done most of the work on it himself, even if he did have trouble sometimes putting thoughts into words. His mind was still sharp and he used it whenever he could, beginning with modifying his wheelchair into something straight out of a science fiction novel. "You're blood is so fascinating, Katya. You wouldn't believe the molecular structure! I've never seen anything like it!"

"Fitz, I told you to stay in the lab." Simmons snapped at her best friend in the entire universe, though Natasha wasn't too worried about them. They'd fight through whatever was keeping them at odds with one another and come out stronger for it. No, Natasha was worried with how remarkably fast Katya had tensed when he'd mentioned her blood.

"It was either stay in the lab and watch all of Ward's monitors beep in unison or come up here and warn you that he's trying to break out of the med lab. Really, I was just trying to be helpful." Natasha grinned at the man's genius strategy. It didn't take Simmons two seconds to be out of the room and down the hall, ready to ream Ward for breaking protocol. Again. "My name is Leo Fitz. It's nice to meet you, Katya."

"And you as well." The words tripped off of Katya's tongue, politeness seeming ingrained in her makeup. Fitz immediately started on a tangent about how unique and special Katya's blood was, science talk taking over the room as Tony got involved. Because you couldn't pay that man to stay away from a science conversation. In fact, he'd probably pay someone like Fitz to talk to him just for entertainment.

Clint slid over to where Katya was sitting, the girl herself getting more and more tense the closer he got. She was bracing herself for pain, it looked like. Tense shoulders, set face, slight frown on her lips, she wasn't ready for a pleasant conversation. A reflex at the best of times.

"How are you feeling?" Then again, she didn't know Clint. Clint cared more about a person than just what they'd broken. He was more concerned with the kid's wellbeing than with the equipment Tony was more than likely to moan about being destroyed. And besides that, Natasha knew Tony was slightly impressed at Katya's destructive capabilities. It would be a slow friendship, but Natasha could see the two of them getting along really well, once Tony got past his original prejudice. Too bad that was going to take a lifetime.

"I've been worse." At least it was an honest answer.

"But you've been better as well." Natasha commented when she saw Clint's frown, his horrified gaze obviously making Katya uncomfortable. She stepped up seamlessly into their conversation, knowing that it was easier for Katya to talk to her than to talk to anyone else. She understood games and Natasha could play them all day if she had to.

"They had to put the cast back on your wrist to make sure that it's still alright. There's a new one on your ankle as well, a real cast. You aren't allowed out of that one for a week at least. The one on your wrist longer." Clint informed Katya, his tone serious. He hated when the people he counted as his own were hurt and she'd managed to find a place with him, even if she didn't quite know it yet. Katya wouldn't listen to him, she had no reason to, but Natasha knew it was only a matter of time before Katya gave in. Clint was determined like that.

"The base of operations is now located in Stark Tower, which he insists is now Avengers Tower, for the time being. There's no other safe place to put all of us and Stark has the room. Not only that, but JARVIS, his AI, cross references everyone who walks through those doors. We're the safest we can be while in his care." Natasha explained quickly, not wanting Katya to feel uncomfortable. Sure, giving away their location could turn into a tactical error, but it would make them seem more trustworthy and they needed Katya if they were going to take out the group that was out to kill Clint. Natasha couldn't care less if they'd sent someone to kill her, but she wasn't about to let them take Clint out. No way, no how.

"And this AI let me in?" Katya seemed confused, with good reason. She wasn't exactly a good person and JARVIS normally wouldn't let her set foot in the Tower, but she came highly recommended, so Stark couldn't exactly say no without Natasha strangling him.

"You've become an asset according to SHIELD personnel files. You helped us fight against the HYDRA agents that infiltrated our systems yet again and you saved two of our agents. That's enough to get you through the doors." Clint always had been more eloquent than Natasha. He knew how to make someone feel at home and it seemed to be working with Katya, though she still watched him warily.

"I've been trying to tell them not to hand out your SHIELD lunch card just yet, but they seem to think that you're going to be a good agent. No one listens to me, though." Damn right no one gave a fuck what Stark thought. He hadn't been there, he hadn't seen how well Katya had worked with the team, and he hadn't seen her put others before herself. Not even Natasha could say she'd done that right out of the Rooms. She'd been all about self-preservation, a concept that Katya seemed to lack.

"What makes you think I want to pledge myself to another agency that will try to control me?" It was a valid question, but only brought about because of Stark's dumb response. If he had kept his mouth shut, Katya would still be listening to them and trying to figure things out. The fact that she'd chosen an offensive tactic showed that she was now on edge and Natasha would have hit him if she hadn't known that it would look bad to Katya. She'd been hurt enough by people who wanted her to trust them, she didn't need to see them fighting with one another. Something Stark didn't seem to understand.

"Well, that's up to you. But, I'd suggest thinking about it. Not all of SHIELD employees go into the field. Some do the desk work, others coordinate missions, we could find a place for you, I'm sure. After all, I am the director." And there was Coulson.


End file.
